Southern Comforts
by Wynni
Summary: Modern Hobbit AU: What happens when a wealthy British playboy meets a real rebel belle? Dauphin Island becomes the setting for hijinks, high drama, and quite possibly love. Fili x OC
1. Of Jetties and jelloshots

**A/N Apparently, these days, all my new stories owe their existence to the very wonderful works of kkolmakov. This particular tale builds off her lovely oneshot "spring break" found in her "Scattered" series. She has kindly loaned me her characters from that alt verse, and collaborated with me immensely providing dialog for Thorin, Wren, and Deidre, along with necessary Britisisms I'm horribly clueless about. Hope you enjoy these lovelies as much as we have. **

**Cover photo provided courtesy of Aegileif link: [colon] /d6uuf8c**

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><p>"For love of mercy! Get down off'a there before you kill yourself! Have you lost your everlovin' mind?" While Philip was more than familiar with the sentiment present in the words, the southern drawl delivering them was quite a new experience. He unsteadily turned to face his accuser, trying to assess the rebuke with bleary eyes. It occurred to him he may be entirely too bladdered to see her clearly. Maybe that last jello shot was a bad idea, but who says no to amaretto and grapedini? Considering his current state, maybe the last five were a bad idea.span/p

"Hmm?" Very smooth, Philip, you'll have her eating out of your incoherent hand in no time

""For goodness sakes," the short person with a golden halo (honest to God, he could see a halo the color of clover honey about her head in the late sun) unceremoniously dumped him over her shoulder and carried him off the rock jetty he'd been exploring, grumbling under her breath the whole way. He didn't know whether to be outraged or amused. Thank God Killian was still in hospital, he'd never hear the end of it, being carted off the jetty by a girl.

For one, he had an excellent view of curvy calves and a bouncing bum, but the shoulder he was currently riding was mincing his wedding vegetables. All in all, it was an uncomfortable experience in more ways than one. He didn't have long to ponder his condition, because soon enough she dumped him arse first in the first patch of dry sand she crossed.

"Item one: these rocks are sharp and pointy. Their very construction makes them hell to walk on already. If that weren't enough, they are covered in slimy algae and water, making them doubly difficult to keep your balance. You're lucky as hell you didn't fall. Item two: Should you fall from those sharp pointy rocks, there's plenty others just waiting to catch you and quite possibly dash your brains out. Item three: if by some happenstance you manage to miss all the sharp pointy rocks, these waters are where tiger sharks breed. Tiger. Sharks. Item four: Not only are these tiger shark breeding waters you managed to go dancing about over, but it's _feeding time_! Dusk and dawn are the worst times to get in the water, because that's when they're most active. Are you _trying_ to become shark food?"

"What?" Really, it was the best he could do under the circumstances. He'd finally gotten a somewhat better look at his angry rescuer, and he had to admit he was intrigued. If she were five foot he'd be surprised, but what there was of her was curvaceous. She wore a two piece, but it covered all the right bits in all the right ways. She had a glorious bosom heaving with anger and exertion, a smallish waist, and hips that seemed to beg to be grabbed. He still couldn't see her face very well, since the sunset was behind her. Her hair was lit up like a halo on a religious icon. It was rather smashing.

"What am I doing? You're three sheets to the wind, and can't make out a thing I'm saying. C'mon, let's see if we can find who you belong to." His rescuer helped him to his wobbly feet, and he leaned on her more than he had to simply because she fit so nicely under his shoulder. He could appreciate how cuddlesome she felt there much better than when tossed over her shoulder. Something told him, whether he liked it or not, his ignominious rescue would become family legend.

Briallen walked with her mysterious drunken blondie, headed for some water to help rehydrate her erstwhile charge. It was obvious he'd never be able to tell her where he was staying in his current condition, and she hadn't the heart to dump him in the drunk tank. Taking him back to the sea lab...just no. She wasn't that kind of girl: neither that loose nor that naïve. Her best bet was to walk him till he sobered, and then drop him off wherever he belonged. Yep, good solid plan. Now if he'd just quit looking at her like she was some sort of answered prayer. _How_ did she manage to get herself in these messes? You'd think after the first stray, she'd have learned her lesson, but noooo. Now she was moving up from broken winged terns and orphaned raccoon kits to Drunkards wobbling about on rock jetties.

Boy was very easy on the eyes: long blond locks, thick downy beard, smiling blue eyes, and a physique that said he was no stranger to the outdoors. Those hands she's had to move back from off limit areas didn't have a single callous between them, so she imagined it was more sports or a gym than hard work. Course, it may have also just been luck of genetics.

Philip couldn't believe his luck, it was a moon bright evening, stars all over the sky, and he was walking with a bird he would swear was straight out of a dream. He'd finally gotten a look at the face that went with the body, and he wasn't disappointed. Her omnipresent halo set with the sun, and he could see it was the fluffiest mop of brown curls he'd ever seen. Big expressive brown eyes, straight brows, and a high bridged nose complemented a generous mouth, ripe for kisses. He'd already been tempted to try a few times, but reasoned if she was strong enough to pick him up, she was probably strong enough to lay him out flat. While that was an amusing thought, he also did not aspire to be that sort of person, drunk or no.

It was fast approaching midnight, and Blondie hadn't so much as made a peep. She noticed he was no longer wobbling, hadn't been for the past hour, nor had she had to move hands from boobs or butt in about that time. Somebody was stretching their association out, and she wanted to know why.

"So, how long 'til you were gonna fess up to being sober again?" Laughing blue eyes looked her over, top to bottom before answering.

"What gave me away?"

"You've been steady on your feet for an hour, and I've not had to slap a hand for about that long. Why were you pretending to be drunk, still?"

"Same reason you waited an hour to ask." Watching her brows knit over her nose, and oh, what a lovely pout, he decided to answer the question he saw brewing there. "I was enjoying the company, love."

"Heaven help her, but his smile was a heart melter. Scratch that, given the feeling in her knees, that blasted smile could melt bones. Bri knew she was officially in trouble now. She cleared her throat.

"Ahem, Briallen Davis, and you are?"

"Philip Durinson, charmed." Oh no, thought Bri, you are definitely the charmer, here, Mr. Durinson. She felt her heart kick it up to triple time, when he turned and wrapped two very warm, large hands about her face and kissed her senseless. Yep, there went the knees. Lucky thing Blondie was quick when sober, or they'd both be in the sand.

Philip had felt a bit worried when she called him out on playing drunk, but sheer elation took its place when she admitted how long she knew he'd been faking it. It was a relief to think that maybe he wasn't the only one feeling completely head over heels with someone he'd just met. Why else walk him instead of dumping him in the drunk tank? Why wait so long to say anything? So, in for a penny, in for a pound, he kissed her. When he felt her knees go, yeah, he wasn't the only one feeling this way. His heart was practically singing.

"We are on a public beach, and I _never_ do this kind of thing. Never as in I'm not even on any protection kind of never. So, we need to stop, **now.**"

How did she get all that out in one breath, even? Rather than back off, Philip pulled her back against himself, and rested his head on top of her curls. In the dark, they looked almost black, and they left long silky ringlets down to her shoulders. He didn't think lambs' wool could be as soft as her hair, and it smelled of wind, salt, and honeysuckle. He rubbed his chin into it, and inhaled deeply.

"So, what do we do from here?"

"Beg Pardon?" Why did she suddenly go stock still?

"You and me. There's something here, and I want enough time with you to find out what it is. You?"

"I know Jack Sprat about relationships. I haven't the foggiest what is and isn't normal about a guy and a girl. For that matter, you're my first kiss, ever."

"You're joking."

"Nope. No teen romances or soap operas here."

"How in Hell?"

"When you're told often enough you're nothing but a big nosed fat bitch, you eventually start to believe it." Briallen felt his arms tighten about her, and heard him growl low in his chest.

"They must have been bloody sick."

"I suppose I might have scared them off with my rapier wit and scathing insults."

"Hm, from the treatment you gave me, that I might believe."

"Just how much of that do you remember?" Brown eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"All of it"

"You faker! Why didn't you say anything?"

"And miss out on our romantic moonlit walk? Perish the thought."

"I just don't see how this can work. I'm as American as they come, working on my degree here at the Sea Lab, and if you're not a bona fide rich Brit, I don't know what is. You're not staying, and I can't go." Her voice, soft and sad, was not what Philip was expecting.

"What do you want?"

"I want forever, and I won't settle for less, and somehow, I don't see that happening here."

"Nonsense, you can't be giving up before we've even gotten started, can you? I'm already taking studies on this side of the Puddle, no reason I can't transfer to a closer campus. It would ease Mother's mind if someone were keeping an eye on Killian."

"You can't be serious? We just met, and you expect me to believe you're turning your entire life on end for me? Right." Philip was quite enured to sarcasm, but hearing it that thick from someone his own age made him want to wince.

"Just, think about us, and maybe..walk me home?"

"Philip, you and them eyes are pure dangerous, you know that?"

"So, is that a yes?

"Lord save me. Where're we walking to?"

"Over there."

Briallen dug her heels into the sand, hard. Philip turned back to look at her. "There's no way on God's green earth I'm awalkin' in that hotel with you!

"Why not?"

"You want the reasons in chronological, categorical, or order of severity? Sugarbear, I've been friends with Wren long enough to know what posh is. You, my love, are the epitome of posh, along with that bloomin' hotel. Which means your family quite probably has posh coming out its ears. Which means in no shape, form, or fashion am I subjecting my little country bumpkin colonial self to that disdain, or worse, pity!"

Philip could only stare at her in wonder. "How did you ever fit all those assumptions in one head?"

"Alright Philip, when was the last time you saw your momma in blue jeans?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"I take it, then, the answer's never?"

"Philip, darling, where have you been? I've been terribly worried, we haven't seen you since breakfast!" If Briallen's body was tense before, it went stone rigid now at the cultured British tones. It was a voice that screamed privilege, and all Bri could think to do was bolt.

"See you later, Blondie" Briallen turned to make a hasty retreat from the lady bearing down on them.

"Oh no you don't, not yet." Philip grabbed her hand in what felt like an iron grip, and pulled her back to him.

"I'm so going to get you for this." Briallen had no choice but to grit her teeth and face down the very proper lady who was obviously related to Philip. Best guess, from the way she was doting and scolding by turns, this was his mother.

Shadows revealed a lady with the same strong features as her son, barely softened for feminity's sake. Where Philip was golden and sun bronzed, she's brunnette and fair skinned. Of course she's wearing the latest in fashion: the perfect light linen pantsuit for posh vacationers on the beach. Even the evening breeze that had been playing havoc with Briallen's own wild curls didn't dare ruffle the expensive and stylish chignon she wore. Briallen also took in the manner born she exuded. Something that said everyone but those she cared about were simply there for her convenience. Philip might have survived the sharks out of simple professional courtesy to this cold fish.

"Darling, you surely could have let me know you were alright!" The Grand Dame finally took in the scruffy and stocky young lady uncomfortably pinned in Philip's firm grip. Her features never changed, but all the warmth she showed Philip drained slowly out of the perfectly schooled features until Briallen swore she felt an arctic chill from her. "Are you going to introduce me to your new friend, Philly? You are being impolite."

"Sorry, Mum. This is Briallen Davis, she's with the Sea Lab. She saved me from my own foolishness out on the jetty today. She could have ruthlessly deposited me at the station, but took pity and let me walk it off. She was bringing me back just now. " Philip gave his mother a sheepish grin. " I may have overestimated my own tolerance for local alcohol."

"Overestimated by a great deal, it would seem." Cold as ice eyes pinned Briallen as firmly as Philip's hand. "So, you are local, Bri? Lovely, it is such an exotic place. As you can understand we are unaccustomed to such circumstances. Everything is so fascinating, the speech, the food, the fashion choices" The icy gaze and barely perceptible sneer raked Bri's wal-mart bathing suit with disdain. "This is our first visit to the island, we are in love with it! Such a pity we have to leave so soon!" Really? How many insults could one woman hide in one polite volley?

"Eh, local enough, I guess. Born an' raised just a couple hundred miles from here. Finishing my Grad degree at the Sea Lab. As to attire? Well, you don't wear fancy dress when dragging nets or rescuing tourists." Yeah, it wasn't her kin trying to kill himself. First rule of keeping one's face egg free: remember who owes whom a favor before flinging insults.

"Oh goodness, would you just look at the time! Philly, darling, we shouldn't keep our host for so long! I'm certain she must be exhausted!" Briallen had to admit, it was as graceful a retreat as one could muster under the circumstances. Philip seemed to be holding his mirth by a bare breath. His eyes were fair to crying and his cheeks….dang that had to hurt.

"I"ll be in shortly, Mum." Philip's gaze was solidly stuck to Briallen's mulish expression. He never saw the flash of ire in his mother's eyes as she swanned her way back into the lavish hotel. Briallen was impressed despite herself. How the devil does one gracefully maneuver loose sand in heels?

"Now do you see why I didn't want to go in there? Woman much as told me I wasn't fit to spit shine your shoes." Briallen turned her face. She was not going to cry; she was not going to be affected. She was mad, and she'd stay mad until she got to the safety of her own bed at the Sea Lab.

"Briallen, you were magnificent. Do you have any idea how few people have the courage to volley right back at my mother the way you did?"

"None still breathing?" The sarcasm in her voice seemed to roll right past him. The mirth he'd been holding was no longer even remotely contained. Laughter deep from his chest rumbled against her back. It felt entirely too nice, and she wanted to keep her mad going. She was not going to be vulnerable around him, she wasn't! "Philip, it's late, I'm tired, and I want my bed."

"I think I'm falling in love with you." The simple sincere words really caught her aback. Oh really?

"Uh huh. You're talkin' to a child from a broken home. It's gonna take more than words, sugarcube. Good night, sleep tight. I'm goin' to bed now." Briallen started the long walk back to the sea lab. She heard the crunch of sand behind her. "Now what?"

"A gentleman always escorts a lady home. "

"Your mother is going to be twenty kinds of furious with you; you know that?

"She knows I'm safe. It'll be fine."

"You are impossible."

"Thank you, I do my best to do at least ten impossible things before breakfast each day."

He took the opportunity to tuck her back under his arm while she was still shaking her head at his nonsense. "You're undoing the entire reason for that long bloomin' walk to get you home."

"Not entirely, Mum knows I'm safe, and I'd rather not face down Uncle John after having let a lady walk home by herself this late at night." The fact he was nuzzling her curls again did not escape her notice. She also noted she wasn't doing a thing to stop him and was, in fact, enjoying it.

"And absolutely nothing to do with extending our contact just a bit more?"

"Complaints?"

"Oh hush." Briallen wasn't even going to complain about the beard burn she'd have in the morning, or the number of people trying to figure out who gave it to her. She expected to have a long night fuming over Mrs. Durinson's shabby treatment, but slept like a log instead. She was not going to consider the whyfors.


	2. Ten Impossible Things

Uncle John was waiting for him on the sitting room sofa in the parlor between the suites when Philip came back. "Your mother was in quite a state."

"Which antic in particular this time?" Philip leaned casually against the wall. He was still riding the high from that last kiss at her dorm. At least he knew that much was perfect between them. It was one reason he'd been wanting to talk to his uncle. So many things running through his mind. Now to get all the rest to fall in line.

His uncle tucked a long arm behind his head, and let out a long, heavy sigh. '"Well, for one, she doesn't much care for the lippy bird you had on your arm. Or rather, clutched in your arm. Staying gone all day and most of the night, and then not bothering to come in with her once you deigned to let us know you were safe."

"So, I should have let her walk home alone?"

"Of course not. Letting us know you were going to? That might have been nice." Philip winced. Leave it to Uncle. Might as well get it all out in the open then.

"Something happened today, and I have no idea what to make of it."

"What is it?" He had his uncle's wary attention now. It didn't help he sounded even to himself like the toddler admitting it was his crayon on the wall.

But Philip's confession was interrupted by a very familiar, but very Londoner voice from the back room, Uncle John's room, to be precise. "Love, I'm peckish. Have you ordered it yet?"

Philip was frozen with shock. "What..?" Eyes confirmed what ears heard not a moment later as the ginger that shot him down in the restaurant the day before came sauntering into the room wearing nothing but Uncle's shirt and a satisfied grin. It was her turn to freeze when she noticed Philip against the wall in the sitting room. She recovered fast.

"Evening, Philip is it?" No trace of the southern drawl lingered at all in the very proper and very English voice. "How are you enjoying your stay on our island?"

"I've been on rollercoasters with less loops." Philip was not feeling well.

"I believe it's in the island's motto. I should get back to bed probably," Wren tossed a steamy glance at Philip's uncle."I'm getting cold."

"It's at least twenty degrees outside, Wren," The lifted eyebrow fazed her not at all, but she grinned back at the chuckle in his voice.

"I wasn't talking about the weather," Her sultry voice nearly had John coming up off the couch. The come hither smile and light in her eyes did not help matters, neither did the gently swaying hips that left no delusions about what she was looking forward to later.

"Is that the waitress from the restaurant?" Philip sounded as if he was choking.

"That's Wren." John's tone was suddenly cold and firm. "She is coming back to London with us."

"And that's where she lives, I gather by the accent." Philip concluded. John grinned from some pleasant memories and nodded.

"Blimey..." Philip shook his head. It was too incredible. "What in bloody hell is going on?"

"What do you mean?" John looked at his watch and then at the door of his bedroom. Apparently the room service he ordered for his hungry bird was tarded.

"When was the last time you brought a 'friend' home?" He shook his head again. "I was coming to ask you for advice, and it seems this island's gotten you, too."

"She's not a friend, Phil. She is… Wren," John suddenly laughed. "I'm keeping her." He shook his head still chuckling, "And you're bloody right. Let's blame the island."

"Keep her, Uncle? How do you mean?"

"As in that's your aunt there, Phil?" While the lips were smiling, the eyes were warning Philip to tread carefully. Philip took the hint.

"Oh bloody hell!" Philip slid into a nearby chair. Stunned didn't begin to describe it. John feigned a nonchalant look.

"Alright, good night, Phil. Send the room service my way if they come, would you please?" He started up off the sofa to take Wren up on all those innuendos.

"I think I found her." Philip said it fast, getting it out before he lost all his nerve. He needed some kind of footing dealing with this.

"Who her?" John finally focused his cold blue eyes on his nephew. His attention was quickly back in the here and now, instead of in the room with Wren.

"The one I want to keep." Philip ran his hands through his hair in frustration. It sounded barmy even to him. He knew it the minute she warned him she could get pregnant. He saw her clearly, round with his child, and he didn't want to run. He wanted that, her, the baby, everything. It scared him shitless. John looked at him attentively. Long years dealing with the lightning fast stock market enabled him to take in his nephew's current state quickly and fully. The boy was obviously in love. He stretched back out on the sofa in total control of the situation.

"Is that where you were all night?"

"Yes. She found me bladdered on the jetty, then walked me till I was sober." He quirked a smile. "She refused to come in, didn't want any posh brits looking down their nose at her."

"She'd get plenty of that," John's tone was slightly irritated, "Your mother is unimpressed, putting it mildly."

"Not very surprising. Briallen didn't let her pull her usual tricks." John gave his nephew a studying look.

"Give me a mo, Phil," he rose and walked to his door. He slightly opened the door, obviously not wanting Phil see the room destroyed by sexcapades and stuck his head inside the room. Philip never heard that particular tone from his uncle. It almost sounded like a purr. "Wren, I'll be in a jiffy. I'll send the roomservice to your door. Just put it on my bill, alright?" Philip couldn't hear her answer clearly, but John suddenly barked a short throaty laugh. "None of that, little one. I have a conversation to finish." The indistinct sounds from the room sounded like a mixture of giggles and squeaks. None of which he'd ever have associated with his uncle or anyone with his uncle. Could the night get any stranger?

John, except for a bit of color on his cheeks, was his usual unmovable self and gave Phil an expectant look once he was again leaned back on the sofa.

"So, what do I do? How do I handle this?" Philip looked as close to panic as John had ever seen him, including that time he was caught in the car with the keys at age ten.

"Are you honestly asking my advice?" John chuckled. "You know my history, Phil. That," he pointed at the door behind him, "is where random boffing ends for me, I believe. How does it end for you?"

Philip laughed, but there wasn't any humor in it. "No, no more one offs, but she doesn't believe a word I say, and my background scares her."

"For once you can't use your family and money as an asset, I see," The sarcastic chill in his voice left Philip wincing. "I like the chick."

"No, rather, it's a blunder. She prefers to stay away from 'posh wankers'. I think she's mates with that one." Philip nodded towards John's door.

"Then she's fine with posh wankers. That one, as you put it, has a Duke for a grandfather. Given they are micks."

"Can any more surprises jump out at me today? I think I'm due at least three more." Philip's moan earned a wolfish grin from John.

"I exchanged my ticket, so I'm staying for another three days with you and Dea. And Wren. They are already best of mates."

"Are they?" Phil's raised eyebrow and dry tone were almost a match for John's, considering where he'd learned it. That prompted a chuckle from his uncle.

"Not really. Let's say, your Mum got her head bitten off for the second time tonight when she walked in on us on this very sofa," John patted his large hand on the velvet near his thigh.

"That was an image I could have done without. I also think I more than filled my quota of impossible today. I still have no clue how to proceed with Briallen, though. What do I do?" John steepled his fingers.

"I am the last person to ask, Phil. You know my record."

"Unfortunately, you're the only one I can ask. Bollocks"

"Ok, I'm going to regret this..." John sighed. "I say, grab her and run. It hit you, you are certain, so just do it. Blimey, I sound like an Adidas commercial."

"Will I have your backing when I transfer to a closer campus?"

Before John could answer, the door slammed to his room, and his Wren stalked out like an avenging angel: sheet wrapped like a Michelangelo statue, hair in a wild nimbus, mouth in an angry line, and her eyes that dangerous shade of green. Her phone dangled from finger and thumb like a dead mouse, and once she stopped in front of them, both men recognized the foot tap of a woman wanting answers.

"Philip," her voice was dangerously low and icy cold, "Would you care to explain why I have just found in my phone a text from my darling friend Bri telling me she had picked up a motherless blonde Brit today at the jetty and now she is 'fit to be tied'?"

"Bloody hell! I dropped her off not an hour ago. She was fine!" Philip was already half out of his seat. Had something happened to Briallen after he dropped her off?

"She is not fine! She is, and I quote 'turned around worse than a whirligig in a waterspout'!" She raised her voice, and John slapped a cushion from the sofa over his face. Phil thought he could hear snorting.

"Well, that makes two of us, then." At least it wasn't some new aggro. He had his hands full with the current crop.

"Do not compare yourself to her! For you it's a confusion of a wolf that ran into an unknown species of a bird! For her it's a life changing event with..." She looked into her phone, "A blonde beefcake." She pointed her small finger at his nose. "I will neuter you with a serrated edge grapefruit spoon if you hurt her! Stay away from her!"

"I can't. No more than uncle can stay away from you. Think about it."

"It's true," John's muffled voice came from under the cushion, "He was just professing his undying love for her." And Philip's humiliation was complete. It was a good thing his uncle couldn't see the derisive look that sally earned him. He might have wilted on the spot.

"I highly doubt your opinion on commitment counts, darling," her eyes were narrowed and tone venomous. "If the memory serves me right you had a one off with a tart of a waitress on a beach after exchanging two phrases with her." Wren's voice sounded entirely too controlled and haughty. John lowered the cushion, to Phil's shock he didn't look angry or upset, but was still smiling.

"And then I saw the light and asked the honourable maiden I found instead to accept my undeserving self." His face grew serious. "People change, love. Philip could too." She tilted her head and looked at him thoughtfully. Her quick eyes took in his high color, unwavering gaze, and stubborn set of a usually smiling mouth. Whatever she saw in that must have reassured her.

"Alright, I'm leaving you two to it, but remember," she turned to Phil, "I spent the last six months waiting on people and the salad bar. I am very good with the grapefruit spoon." With those final words, Wren swept out as magnificently as she had stalked in, with a swagger that set her hips roundly swinging. Both men were caught up in the sight, though Philip quickly ducked his head when his uncle took notice.

"And answering your question I think you are a plonker if you decide to change schools for a bird, but I'll support you." John's voice was calm and warm, his eyes still lingering on the door Wren disappeared behind.


	3. From Picnics to Planes

Briallen was starting to feel a bit panicked. Every Friday night till Sunday evening, there was Philip: always polite, always attentive, and always there. It would have been easier to push him away, dismiss him as a stalker, except he wasn't intrusive or pushy. The man was a teeth grittingly perfect gentleman at least around her. Apparently, somebody was working hard to live down the drunken first impression. It was working. Bit by bit, he was working his way into the realm of 'maybe'.

"How are you doing it; how are you here every blessed weekend?" Curiosity finally got the better of her. They were sitting under her favorite spreading oak with a picnic dinner. It was quite an international affair. Fried chicken and potato salad were cozying up to sausage rolls and cornish pastries. Thankfully, Philip didn't comment on the cuisine, except for the usual compliments to the cook. Well, he may have given her one laughing look or two, but those were easily ignored since it was so close to his usual expression.

"My mother relented on allowing me to get my pilot's license when she heard I was considering transferring away from MIT." Philip couldn't keep the smug satisfaction out of his voice. It was a major victory as far as he was concerned. Briallen would never admit it, but she heartily enjoyed his ensemble today: a silky soft blue shortsleeve button up that seemed to make his eyes glow, tasteful khaki colored shorts that showed off leg and backside to perfection, and even his loafers seemed perfectly suited. Man was pure delectable. It wasn't fair. She felt woefully outclassed in her simple purple cheshire cat tee and cuttoffs.

"MIT? You're at MIT?" Briallen stopped with a bite halfway to her mouth. Philip wondered if she had any idea how tempting she looked right now. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a soft ponytail that did little to tame the wild curls. Those cutoffs she wore showed off her tan and toned curvy legs. Then there was the placement of the cat's eyes on that clingy cotton shirt. It was especially distracting.

"Don't look at me like that. What did you take me for?" She might have believed his wounded tone, if she hadn't seen the crinkles around his eyes. She'd always heard of 'merry blue eyes' but hadn't quite believed such could exist until Philip. Darn him.

"I found you drunk out of your skull trying to earn a Darwin Award. What did you think I thought?" Briallen playfully shoved on him, allowing him to pretend to sway back and then forward into her lap, where he settled himself comfortably. He thoroughly enjoyed the view from here. Maybe she'd let him move in permanently. Bri simply thought he was being a plonker. She playfully tapped his nose. "So, pilot's license. Tell me."

"Not much to tell, really. Took the lessons, took the test, and as a reward for acing it, Mum bought the latest and greatest in light planes. Mum and Uncle did their research, ensuring I had the safest and most reliable model on the market." Philip wriggled his eyebrows. "Of course, it also had to be fit enough I'd want to be seen in it." That sent Briallen into a gale of giggles. He rather liked the result.

"Of course. Where are you parking that thing, anyways?"

"Did you know Dauphin Island has its own airfield? I rent a berth there for it." Philip studied her a moment. "Would you care to go for a jaunt with me? See the island from the air?"

"Can we?" She sounded for all the world like a little girl asking for a treat. Far be it for him to deny her.

"I wouldn't offer what I can't deliver." Philip wondered if she'd consider what else that meant as he gallantly offered her an arm up. He helped pack up their meal. It wasn't a long walk to the airstrip. Nothing was far from anything on Dauphin Island.

"Alright, you're about to burst your buttons. Spill it, Brady." Briallen was leaning against the door to his plane, giving the twin engines and custom red and gold paint job an appreciative once over.

"Whatever do you mean?" Philip was enjoying himself. It had taken over a month for Briallen to finally loosen up and relax in his company; he was going to savor every moment of it.

"The specs, the pretty pilot talk, and how death defyingly awesome your skills are flying this thing." She waved one hand airily before her.

"Well, when you put it that way, it makes me sound like a bleeding braggart." Philip crossed his arms, pouting at her. Too bad he couldn't keep the laughter out of his eyes. Briallen laughed, enjoying the easy banter.

"Oh, stop it, pouting does not become you. Now, tell me. I honestly want to know." Briallen used a finger to tease the bottom lip he had rolled out. Of course he took the opportunity to place a kiss on it.

"Alright, you talked me into it. This is a Beechcraft Baron G58. It has twin engines and is ifr certified, meaning I had to get a higher level of certification, which pleased both Mum and Uncle, as that meant even safer."

"Is that why I was getting all those evening calls for the longest? You were getting certified?"

"Uh huh. Didn't want you to think I'd forgotten about you." He gave her such a searching look she didn't want to think what it meant.

"Okay, tell me the rest of it." If she didn't acknowledge it, it didn't happen, right?

"Well, it can hold fuel for a six hour flight, and flies at 220 knots. Which means, I could possibly make the flight here in one go, but for safety's sake, I stop off in Virginia."

"Uncle twist your arm?"

"It was a joint effort. A friend from them has a club strip there. I get topped off, have a wag, catch some lunch, and I'm back in the air for you."

"Have a wag?" Her brows knit. Surely he wouldn't admit to something like that if it meant what she thought it meant?

"Chit chat. Fellow that runs it seems to know everything there is to know about flying. Only makes sense to learn what I can from him." He couldn't quite suppress the chuckle her obvious relief invoked. Just what had she been thinking just then?

"And all that for me?" Briallen's tone was light and teasing, but Philip caught an undercurrent in it. One that had him pause and search her face. There it was, that self doubt.

Philip propped one hand against the plane's hull to each side of her, hemming her in his arms. He lightly kissed the tip her nose. "If not for you, then who?"

Flying, Bri found, was just as exhilarating as she'd hoped. To watch the waves skim by beneath her seemingly close enough to touch, or sail over the clouds and watch the sunset paint the tops instead of the bottoms, was breathtaking. She was an admitted hard core adrenaline junkie, and flying with Philip scored on all counts. Best of all, between the plane's noise and him having to pay attention to flying, allowed her to study him or the outside at her leisure without his knowing smart aleck smile. It was a win win situation as far as she was concerned.

"So, did you enjoy yourself?" They had finally come back in after taking a leisurely tour around the island, enjoying seeing the bird sanctuary and parks from the air. Briallen turned to him at the question. There was that annoying knowing grin. Blast him to bits, but even at his most trying, his bleeding good humor made it impossible to take offense. It didn't keep her from socking him softly in the shoulder, though.

"You know I did. Amazing you ever come down from there."

"Well, there's something down here I find infinitely more interesting." It was said lightly, but the look he gave her was as serious as she'd ever seen grace his face. Before she could bolt, he asked another question. "So, are you going to attend the bonfire tonight?"

"What bonfire?" Puzzlement painted the funniest pout, Philip couldn't help but laugh.

"Blimey, Briallen. You live here full time, how is it I know more about what's going on than you do?" Philip pulled her back against him in a familiar hug, resting his head on her curls.

"Because you're the social butterfly, and I'm not?" Philip was quite sure there were deserts wetter than her dry tone.

"Say you'll come with" Briallen tilted her head to look him in the eye. Was the playboy extraordinaire actually wheedling?

"I reckon I better. Somebody has to keep your drunk butt off the jetties." His laughter shook her top to toe. She couldn't even say she minded.


	4. Of Bonfires and Bistros

**AN: Sorry for the wait. This chapter took a bit to write. Thanks to ****kkolmakov ****for not only loaning her lovelies, but helping write some of their dialogue, and always thanks for the proper britisisms. ;) Also, if you're especially keen eyed, you might spot in here the start of her current trend to incorporate Disney songs. And no, I'm NOT sorry, at all :P**

Briallen was not looking forward to the Bonfire. It was usually just an excuse for a bunch of rowdies to get drunk and make out. She never really saw the appeal in drinking to stupidity, or conducting what she considered very private behavior right out where anyone could see. There was also the added sting of being alone at a function meant for pairs. Being reminded how little her fellow students regarded her was never high on her to-do list. Yet now, if Philip was to be believed, someone did want her.

She wouldn't have put it past him to have invited her knowing she'd be clinging like a limpet since she'd have very little confidence at this thing. The mental image of him rubbing his hands like a vaudeville villain, twirling his moustache and declaring 'all part of my evil plan,' did cause her to smile in spite of herself. Okay, nerves dealt with, but what should she wear? They'd just have to deal with her cutoffs and bare feet. She meant she was going to be comfortable, dast it.

Philip let out a long low whistle of appreciation. Briallen was a vision in a clingy teal crop top and open yellow button up. The yellow framed her generous assets, while the crop top hugged every curve to perfection. Then there were her cut offs. Blimey, but it should be illegal for a bird to fill out shorts like that. A guffaw of genuine mirth broke free when he caught sight of her bare feet. Typical Briallen. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd been able to talk her into something more than flip flops.

"And what, pray tell, will you do if you step on a broken bottle?" He gallantly opened the door of his rented Range Rover.

"What, you wouldn't carry me?" At least she felt comfortable enough to tease. That was a plus. She eyed the large vehicle suspiciously. "Why do we need a Rover, Phil?

"I seem to recall carrying people your forte…" Philip smiled wickedly at her. "How else am I to take you into town for a fantastic meal before the Bonfire? You might want to grab your sandals, Love. I'm sure the restaurant requires shoes for service."

"You Sneaky Pete, you. You set me up!" She stomped in frustration. She was not amused at his fond look.

"How else was I going to get you to agree to a proper date?" How did something that sneaky sound that innocent?

"OOoh!" She poked his broad chest. Only now was she noticing he was not dressed for the beach, but in a light linen suit suitable for the finest venues Mobile had to offer. The warm tones of the suit made his skin glow and his hair shine. "You will give five minutes. I am not going into a fine restaurant dressed like a beachcomber! The nerve!"

Philip was impressed. Few women he'd known actually meant it when they said five minutes. He held his breath as she came back out, dressed in a modest green crushed velveteen dress and matching suede flats, her hair tamed back in a soft bun resting at the nape of her neck.

"A bit warm for velvet?" She would never admit how effective that raised eyebrow was. It would just give him more reason to use it more often on her.

"Pfft, this thing isn't velvet, shug. It's lighter than it looks. I promise, I won't embarrass you with sweat stains at your fancy bistro." She answered lightly as Philip handed her into the Rover.

Well, handed is a bit of a misnomer. The thing was high off the ground. Bri could have clambered in on her own, he'd seen her in action before. However, she was also in a dress. It didn't take Phil long to figure out her distress and lifted her gently into the Rover. He even managed to throttle the urge to grab bountiful handfuls of backside on the way up, keeping his hands safely on her waist.

The trip to the restaurant passed in a companionable silence. At some point, he commandeered her hand, cradling it with his right. His left was rather deftly steering through the rambling roads of Mobile. It wasn't a section she'd visited often. She watched out the windows with interest at new buildings mixed randomly with antebellum storefronts.

She snickered slightly when she noticed the street they were on was 'Royal street'. It seemed rather fitting, given her present company. Then she noticed they were stopping in front of 'The Trellis Room." Her breath caught. "Oh no, you didn't!"

"I didn't what?" Honest puzzlement met her outburst. What was she on about now?

"The Trellis Room?" Apparently, her voice went a bit shrieky, if him rubbing his ear and stretching his jaw to ease the ringing were any indication.

"I thought you liked Italian." Did he have to sound so reasonable? He quickly lifted her down from the Range Rover. Her pique with him was such she didn't notice the light kiss on her head, or the fact he hugged her close for a moment.

"Yes, but you practically have to take out a loan to eat here!" Briallen noticed he didn't actually answer her, but just gave her that small knowing smile and lifted eyebrow. "Oh hush, I'm not used to dealing with filthy rich, so just hush!" From the waves of mirth rolling off him, he didn't think laughing counted. It was hard to curl up and huff in aggravation, when he wouldn't released her hand.

Someone had made reservations, because they were escorted straight in….and to an occupied table. Bri would have stopped right there if Phil's massive paw on her back hadn't propelled her forward with a steady pressure. "Phil, I'm going to kill you. You know that, right?" She assured him in a small voice.

The Trellis Room was large and spacious. Briallen imagined it would probably put even ball rooms to shame. The ceiling was one massive skylight allowing starlight to shine in, while graceful lamps along the wall and on the tables illuminated the tasteful decor in a soft golden glow. It was enough to make Briallen feel very small, very inadequate, and very out of place. Why was Philip doing this to her?

"How else was I going to get you to meet my family? Mum hardly gave you a fair impression." His voice was the soul of reason, never mind it blatently disregarded everything she'd said heretofore about her extreme discomfort with the uppercrust.

"You're still a walking dead man, Phil." She then plastered a smile that couldn't conceal the very real panic in her eyes even as a familiar redhead bounded across the empty floor to hug her. Bri hugged Wren tight, almost desperately "Help me. I'm going to kill him for this."

"Breathe, Bri, all is well. No one is going to gobble you up," Wren whispered into her ear giggling. All Bri's distressed eyes saw of her friend were bouncing red curls and flashing white teeth.

"Maybe you know how to handle all this folderol, I ain't got a clue. How does breathing work again?" Bri's heart was fair beating out her chest. It was a wonder Wren couldn't feel it.

Bri barely took in the three standing men. She'd heard about them, so she started trying to match men to tales. Well, John was easy, even without the drawn on sombreros or mustaches, he was hard to miss: dark hair going to silver at the temples, glacial blue eyes set off by his royal blue linen pantsuit, and features very reminiscent of Philip. Easy to see why Wren fell head over heels. The other with dimples and a cheshire wide grin had to be the irrepressible Killian dressed in shirtsleeves and blue jeans. He was obviously the spoiled younger brother. Those puppy brown eyes and dimples had to make 'no' almost impossible. However, the third one was a complete blank. He was young but dressed nicely in grey longsleeves and green sweater vest. He had warm brown eyes and strawberry blonde locks in a funny fringe about his face. She'd have to wait for introductions to find out who the freckle faced youngling was.

Philip made the introductions. "Briallen, this is my brother Kilian, my uncle John Thorington, and this is our cousin Orwell. Uncle's watching him over holiday."

"I am no babysitter, Philip, and Orwell hardly requires any," John's low voice had a commanding tone to it.

"Who in their sane mind would trust such a depraved person as yourself, darling, with a child?" Wren's cajoling tone and conspiratorial wink went a far way to calm Bri, especially since it startled a short laugh out of her. Bless Wren and her sense of humor.

John seemed willing to play right along, since he immediately picked up her hand with an overblown air of drama, kissing right above it, and purred "Only with you, darling." Briallen was starting to see where Philip got a lot of his idiosyncrasies.

"Killian, I thought Reese was coming tonight?" Philip asked his brother, deciding enough attention had been given to the current nonsense. He seated Briallen with all the care of a fine gentleman, causing the heat to rise in Bri's cheeks, especially when he dropped a quick kiss on her curls.

"She got called in to work. Hospital's understaffed as usual." Disappointment colored his voice. He propped an elbow on the table, and rested his chin on his palm, looking for all the world like a dejected five year old, completely oblivious to any and all disapproving stares. Bri was liking him more by the second. Maybe she could do this.

"Hmm, do you think an ace bonfire do can cheer you up?" Philip dangled the proposition like a fish before a hungry orca. Of course Killian took the bait. Gone was the morose puppy and in his stead vibrated the boundless energy of the eternal party junkie. Bri had to stifle a giggle. It was too comical for words.

"There's a bonfire tonight? How did I not know about this?" The mix of enthusiasm and sheer affront in Kilian's voice was hilarious. Briallen was almost too distracted to notice John lean over to kiss Wren's ear while she caught his hand and curled her fingers with there were the speaking looks between Wren and John. Apparently, someone hadn't been exaggerating about their chemistry. She mentally started a countdown to see how long 'til they had to excuse themselves.

"Do you really want an answer to that, Killian?" John answered his exuberant nephew with a voice dryer than the Sahara. "I'm surprised you do not, I thought that was your major at the university,"

"We should all go," Wren tuned in, hand still tightly wound with John's.

"We should order, the waiter has been suspended over our table for the last five minutes," grumbled John. Sure enough, there behind Philip stood a timid little waiter with sandy brown curls, impeccable uniform, and a very rabbity looking face. The poor man even twitched his nose.

"Good evening, all. I'll be your server tonight. May I take your drink orders?" He was as meticulous in his duties as his dress. Unlike some that pretend to write, or attempt to memorize orders, he wrote each one down and returned quickly with everyone's refreshment. It was still enough time even Briallen had decided on her supper.

"And you, Miss, what would you care for?" His kind brown eyes glanced up from his notepad long enough to catch Briallen's, so she knew he meant it was her turn.

"The Marsala Beef medallions and tortellinis, how is that seasoned? I'm allergic to onions and peppers." The poor man had to lean in close to hear her, her voice small and unassuming. Philip gazed at her with a raised eyebrow. This behavior was new to him. Wren, taking her starstruck gaze off John for a moment, could only shake her head, worried over Bri's regression. Obviously, the panic was deciding to come back, now that she felt under scrutiny.

The waiter looked nonplussed at the request. "We can certainly make you an order without, if you want the dish."

"Yes please, and thank you." Bri hated all the eyes on her. She would have sunk under the table to hide, but she knew that would simply cause more stares. As she twisted her napkin into torturous spirals, she envisioned innumerable ways she would make her displeasure known to her daft date once she was out from under observation. Dast it, he even had her admitting to herself it was a real date! A real date meeting the family, even.

"So, Wren, I take it you and Uncle are coming to the Bonfire tonight?" Phil picked up Bri's hand, stroking it. It was easy to see he was worried at her sudden meekness as well. It still wouldn't save him from her wrath. She let a little of her displeasure known through her grip, strong enough to even make his meaty hand turn red and make him wince. Nobody seemed to notice, and Phil wasn't about to draw attention to it.

"Philip, according to what codswallop logic did you ever think I'd subject myself to a bonfire party? No, thank you, I'll be happily ensconced in my comfortable room, drinking Jameson and catching up on some files." John's attention was back on Wren.

"As you will, Uncle. I thought it might be one of the ten impossible things today. I've not quite met quota. You have to admit, Wren has talked you into a number of things I'd not think possible, even in the most fevered of dreams." Philip teased.

"This, most assuredly, will not be one of them. I'm staying in tonight. I'm sure I won't be missed, since both Wren and Killian seem keen to go." The poor pitiful puppy eyes John made at Wren were enough to cause Briallen to choke on her raspberry tea. How many times had she seen Philip try that look on her? Since she wound up meeting Philip's gaze as he cut his eyes to her, the same thought must have crossed both their minds.

"As much as I love you marinated in your favourite whiskey I'll see you later tonight" Briallen had introduced Wren to "The Aristocats" and she was now using the Eva Gabor voice. It seemed to do things for John, if the intense hooded look he was giving Wren was anything to go by.

'I'd like to go!" Until now, Orwell had been even quieter than Briallen. Apparently, however, he didn't mind social gathers, he just wasn't a center of attention sort.

"I don't see why you couldn't. Wren, Phil, and I will be there, so no one can say you wouldn't be chaperoned sufficiently." Killian was becoming more enthused by the minute. Struck by a thought, he bent down to text something in his phone, so engrossed he didn't even offer a 'by your leave.' He really did put Briallen in mind of a half grown puppy: all enthusiasm and good cheer, and barely a lick of sense.

"And Bob's your uncle…" Philip said it quietly, though not so soft Briallen missed it. She gave him a raised eyebrow. "Looks as if we'll have a regular party ourselves at the bonfire."


	5. Sand, Surf, and Song

**A/N: Sorry for the wait, this decided to be a booger to write. Hope you enjoy. Wren and Wren dialogue courtesy of kkolmakov**

**XXXX**

"How could you! You KNOW I'm not comfortable with ritzy folderol! Why would you put me through that? Why?" At least, Philip thought, she waited until we were in the Rover to unleash her fury. He winced as a particularly solid fist ground the muscle against the bone of his arm. He folded her into a bearhug, trapping her flying fists without hurting her.

"Bri, you have to be one of the most outspoken, fearless women I've ever met. Why would you allow this fear of yours to hold you back?" Philip placed his finger under her chin, lifting her face to meet his gentle gaze. "This is part of my world, and I want you to have a place in it."

Words clogged Briallen's throat. Why'd he think it his place to make her face her fears? Why should she have to learn high society stuff? She didn't ask for any of it. All true, to a point, and all guaranteed to break a truly sweet guy. A guy who flew six hours one way every weekend to see her. A guy who'd yet to break a promise to her. A guy that looked at her like the sun rose and set on her. She huffed at him, her brows still knit in anger, and her lip set in a mulish pout. "I'm still angry. You ain't off the hook yet."

A dimple winked at her as he kissed the tip of her nose, a small, patient smile gracing his face. Her heart melted a bit when she heard him borrow one of her favorite phrases. "Kinda figured."

Now that he felt safe enough to unhand her, it was a fairly uneventful trip to her quarters . While she was in her room changing, Philip availed himself of her bathroom to make his own quick switch. He was comfortably dressed in a well worn beige t-shirt and roomy red swim trunks when she came back out in her earlier outfit.

"Still no shoes, eh?" Philip teased her, dimples winking merrily.

"I'll wear shoes to the beach when pigs fly." Briallen snorted back, good humor back despite her promise to stay mad. Unfortunately, that blasted man was too adorable for her own good.

"Come, fair Lady, your carriage awaits." The grandiose gesture towards the rover caused her to giggle as he knew it would.

"Phil! I can get in by myself. Besides, I thought it was going to just be down here on the beach?" Still playing the over the top gallant, Philip handed her into the rover.

"Nope, it's down on the Public Beach, we're meeting Killian and crew in the parking lot."

"Oh good lord. What have I let myself into?" All this time, she'd thought it had just been a small gathering of Sea Lab students and profs on the east end beach. No such luck, it was an Official Dauphin Island To Do. Philip cast worried glances at her quiet profile all the way there.

"What in tarnation?" Her throat closed when she saw him lift a guitar case out of the back. Some of her most cherished childhood memories were of her father playing, her mother singing, and herself harmonizing. However, those memories were also linked to the unbearable hurt when her father left. There was no way for Philip to know. Maybe it was time to make some new memories, anyway. She forced the sadness down and purposefully kept her voice light. "Why Philip, I didn't know you could play."

He flashed those darling dimples at her and teased. "Why darling, you never asked!" She let him take her hand, and jauntily escorted her down to their waiting friends. They were fairly easy to spot in the parking lot. Everyone else was heading straight down to the sand, while they sat there watching for them. Wren practically flew into her arms. Bri hugged her back just as enthusiastically.

"I spotted a karaoke machine, you WILL sing for me, tonight." Wren's voice, though light and teasing, held a thread of steel.

"I don't get that drunk, Wren." Briallen refused to admit there was more than a bit of desperation in her answer. Yes, she enjoyed singing, but in front of this many? Heaven help her.

"One song, or I tell Phil about that time at the creek…"

"Alright, one song! Now shush ye!" Briallen's cheeks flamed mightily, they were slowly making their way to the main bonfire, Orwell and Killian talking ninety to nothing in Philip's ears, keeping Wren's threat private.

About that time a curvaceous silhouette showed up on the edge of the parking lot, backlit by the luminous blue water and pale sand, causing Killian to emit a rather piercing wild warhoop as he bounded off and swung the girl around in glee.

"Good lord, you sure he ain't a redneck? I swear…." Something told Briallen they wouldn't be seeing much of Killian or his girlfriend at this bonfire; they seemed entirely too preoccupied with each other. Of course, that meant there was only the mild mannered Orwell now to preoccupy Philip…

"Like he needed any more bad habits to pick up. I blame you for that." Philip was still rubbing his ear, being closer to ground zero.

"Blame me? For what? I hadn't met him till today!" Briallen playfully dug an elbow into Phil's side, earning a completely overdone 'umpf' for her efforts. " 'Sides, could say southerners learned all that from the Irish n Scottish what settled here. So, back atcha Brit!"

"Irish and Scottish? You do know my family's English?" The upperclass down the nose look was totally derailed by the laughter hiding in his eyes. They had finally made it to the soft sand, where walking became that much more difficult. Bri grabbed his arm for stability when her ankle turned on a deep drift.

"You know, Great Britain is made up of four kinds of people. " Briallen grinned mischievously. Poor Philip was walking into a trap.

"Oh really? Do tell." Philip kept his voice noncommittal. He was fairly sure he'd just stepped in a train tunnel, but he wasn't sure yet from which way it was coming.

"Ehehehe, just remember, you asked for it." Briallen stopped, placed her hands behind her back as if for recital, and began. " Ahem. There's the Welsh, who pray on their knees and their neighbors; the Scottish, who keep the Sabbath, and anything else they get their hands on; the Irish, who don't know what they want, but are willing to fight for it, and then there's the English, believing themselves to be a selfmade people, thereby relieving the Great Almighty of a Terrible responsibility."

They had to stop for a moment, as the laughter completely incapacitated Philip, buckling his knees and dropping his guitar in the sand. "Oh, oh my. That's rich. Wherever did you hear that?"

"Wren." It took another several minutes before the guffaws and snerks subsided. Briallen had to bite her lip, his laughter was infectious. "Come along, you. Our bonfire bonanza awaits."

"Lead on, Love." Phil rose and offered her a hand up, guitar in the other, and lead her to the logs about the fire. Off to one side was a refreshment trailer, and beside that, the dreaded karaoke. Luckily, festivities were still early enough they were still in the process of setup. That, and she didn't think people were liquored up enough to brave public humiliation.

Philip pulled her into a game of moonlight volleyball, and it was actually fairly fun. By the time the game was called on account of inebriation, her team was up by two. Of course, just as she was feeling oh so grand…..Wren approached her with that familiar look in her eye. "Remember what you promised me?"

"Yes?" Briallen had a feeling she just entered that train tunnel she'd led Phil to earlier.

"It's ready. I want to hear you sing that Roxette song." Bri didn't care for the glint in her eye or mischief lurking at the corner of her friend's mouth. That was the face of a woman Up to Something.

"No. Oh no no no…." What was Wren up to? She knew how she felt about that song.

"You promised!" Briallen felt the cheery sing song was entirely misplaced.

"Wreeeeen! Do you have any idea..." Deer in the headlights did not begin to cover it.

"Yeah. You are too uptight, Bri. Go and you might get some slap and tickle laters. Go on, he's already got it cued up and waiting for you." Wren stuck her tongue out at her best friend as she shoved her towards the Karaoke stage. The attendant saw her coming, and started announcing her before she even set foot on the platform.

"Next up we have Briallen Carys Davis, singing 'Go the Whole Way' by Roxette."

"My whole name? You used by whole name, why?" To say she was feeling slightly panicky would have been generous. What was this? Embarass Briallen night?

"Sounded jolly good."

"Sometimes, woman….."

"Get up there already! " One final shove had her at the microphone and lyric screen, not that she needed it. Then, as always, everything faded as the music took over and she went with it. She didn't see Philip move up to the front of the crowd, his heated eyes never leaving her as she sung, gyrating in time to the music. In fact, the first thing she actually paid attention to was the feeling of being hoisted on a rather burly shoulder. 'The hell?!"

Philip said not a word as he carried her back to the rover, amidst catcalls, warhoops, and suggestions not suitable for mixed company. Briallen was fairly sure her face would make a great beacon by this point.

When Philip finally let her feet touch ground, her back was to the rover as he pulled her into the hottest kiss she'd ever experienced. Her hands crept up to tangle in his glorious blonde locks and clasped him even tighter. To say she enjoyed the feel of his weight and heat against her, pinned to the rover as she was, would have been an understatement. It felt right.

His hands, which had until now been cradling her like precious cargo, slipped around and under her shirt, sliding up to cup each breast under her bra. Up until that point, she'd been drunk on his breath and the lovely tongue tango they'd been engaged with. Feeling calloused fingers pebbling her nipples brought some level of sanity back. "Phil! Phil! A parking lot is NOT a good place for this!" She managed to hiss once he let her draw breath.

He dropped his head to her shoulder, breathing heavily. Both arms were back around her, and she could feel his whole length trembling against her. That was fine. His weight against her was the only reason she was still upright.


	6. Emissions and admissions

**A/N My most heartfelt apologies for this being late. There' s a scene in here that took me forever to get right.**

* * *

><p>"We should get back to the fire. I promised to play tonight." Briallen wasn't sure how long they'd stayed there by the rover. However long it was, she could still hear the strain in Philip's voice.<p>

"Hmm, it'll be nice hearing guitar again." Her brain wasn't quite in gear yet. That had to be the lamest thing ever spoken!

"Oh?" Thankfully his brain wasn't in much better condition.

"My dad used to play for Mom 'n me. Some of my best memories." She was still shifting her girls back into place when she slid her eyes over to his face. His cheeks looked more like apples than anything else. "You don't happen to know 'Wildwood flower' by any chance?"

"No, sorry. I'm afraid I don't." He tilted his head as he caressed her face with his gaze. "You'll still listen, won't you?"

"Pffft, depends on how well you play. Play somethin' I really like, and I'll be singing along."

"In that case, I will not be responsible for my actions, if it's anything like what you did earlier." Oh dear, she could feel him getting wound up again, and that from a good five feet away from him.

"So, ready to rejoin the party?" Briallen tossed a bright smile at him and pulled him back towards the bonfire and logs while he was still dazzled. Bless them, not much was said about how long they were gone, or what they'd done while gone. There were plenty of grins and knowing looks, and those she could easily ignore.

"Hey Philly! You gonna play 'Drunken Sailor'?" Kilian sat with Reese on a log next to Philip's. It was hard to determine where one of them began and the other ended since the lovebirds were so wrapped around each other.

"Already asking for songs about yourself, Kills? Bit early for that, isn't it?" Philip's voice was affectionate and teasing. Bri shook her head at them. Dear lord, if they got into an insult match typical of most brothers, they'd still be at it come sunup.

"Belt it, ignert." Bri tried to swallow the snicker, but it came out a snort instead. Reese didn't even try, but let her mellow laugh float free and clear.

"The hell is an ignert?" Poor Philip had no idea how to respond. He'd even stopped tuning his guitar in consternation.

"Redneck version of a numpty." Briallen was proud she remembered 'numpty' from Craig Ferguson on the Late Late show. Philip chuckled, and made one last adjustment to his guitar.

"You really have gone native haven't you, little brother?" Philip strummed his guitar, checking the tone, then grinned in sheer pleasure at the perfect mellow chord. "But yes, we can begin with "Drunken sailor" if you like."

"Sweet! I know that one!" Briallen was fair to bouncing on the log next to Philip in glee.

"Do you, now?"

"Watch me, Britty Boy!" Bri was all but rubbing her hands in unholy glee. She'd told him before she was SCA, now she'd get to show him a bit of what that meant…..like knowing sea chanteys and risque tavern songs. Right on cue, she belted out the lyrics.

_What can ye do with a drunken sailor? What can ye do with a drunken sailor, what can you do with a drunken sailor earli in the mooornin!_

_Put 'im in the longboat 'til he's sober, put 'im in the longboat until he's sober, put 'im in the longboat 'til he's sober earli in the mooornin'_

Then came the chorus, which was always Bri's favorite part. She could always see the sailors, haulin' the sheets up with the sun sparkling on the lines and crossbeams as the sails took the wind as they rose into place.

_Weigh, hey, and UP she rises! Weigh, hey, and UP she rises, Weigh, hey! and UP she rises earli in the moornin'!_

They sang through locking him up with the captain's daughter, shaving his face with a rusty razor, and a few unsavory practices that Bri was sure only a sadist could have imagined before they declared the song done.

Phil blew out a long low whistle, and went into a little tune that shimmied up and down a scale with a trill or two. Bri wondered if it were something he'd made up, or a practice ditty. Either way, she would have been interested in hearing more of it.

"Well, shall we keep with the theme, and go into Drunken Scotsman?" Bri asked Philip, catching him off guard with her request. He guffawed, taking a full minute to catch his breath back.

"Now why doesn't it surprise me at all you know that particular song?" Philip adjusted the strap on is guitar, taking the moment to tease Briallen. She teased back by sticking out her tongue at him.

"Can you play it?" She took the liberty to poke his side, causing him to shift quickly out of her reach. She filed away the ticklish spot for further investigation.

"Of course." Good thing there was no rain in the near forecast. His nose that high in the air might cause him to drown. However, it also presented a perfect opportunity to avail herself of that very soft and fluffy beard. She tweaked his mustache for good measure, once she had him all but purring from the attention. She again ignored the giggles and snickers from the peanut gallery. By now, she was sure they were taking bets on what exactly was going on between her and Philip.

"Well hop to already." For this one, she had Wren's help. They did as they'd done at the last bardic circle, and actually acted out the song: drawing laughter all around at their melodramatic reaction to what's "beneath his scottish skirts" right down to tying the blue silk ribbon into a bow 'around the bonny star the Scotsman's kilt did lift and show'. By the time they got to the scotsman exclaiming 'lad I don' know where ye been, but I see you won first prize" there wasn't a soul left upright on the logs. They'd even managed to topple Philip with their antics. There was nothing left for Wren and Bri to do but take a bow, which they did, with all the aplomb of grand ladies….prompting more laughter.

Bri sat back down on the log next to Philip, grinning from ear to ear. "Well?" she asked.

"Very nice." Then Philip picked his guitar up, starting a very familiar tune. So familiar, in fact, Bri found herself up again, harmonizing and hips swaying in time to the music. She utterly ignored the knowing snicker behind her from Wren.

It really was the perfect night for the song. A full moon coasted amongst light wispy clouds. The water reflected the luminous blue light, and the cool sand cushioned and caressed her feet as she dipped, swayed and rolled her hips. For some reason, Mummer's dance always brought out the belly dancer moves she'd learned at SCA events. Philip visibly started when she started singing, and then his hungry gaze never left her gyrating form until the last note was played.

"Bri, would you walk with me a bit?" To say Philip was at the very limit of his dignity would be a polite understatement. When she took his hand, she could feel the tremors in it. "Kills, guitar please." He was practically dragging Briallen towards the darker part of the beach.

"Phil, where're we headed?"

"Anyplace quiet and secluded. We need to have a serious talk."

"Oooooh boy. And you don't know the island at all. Hang on, follow me, I know a place up in the dune area." She'd hoped the long walk to the dunes would help settle things, but as soon as they hit her cozy little hidey hole, Philip pulled her into a long, heated kiss that had her knees buckling. Philip controlled her descent, and she found herself reclining on the overheated length of one Philip Durinson. So much for talking.

Briallen tried to wriggle her way off his broad body, when a certain area of hers rubbed a certain area of his, and she nearly keeled over from the intense sensation. It compared to nothing she'd ever felt, and she yowled. From that moment, there were two Briallens: one tiny little detached observer, and one fully caught up in the sensations of the moment. Even as she repeated the action that caused the starburst in the first place, the observer was wondering why she'd done it. It felt as if she couldn't help herself, like some other person had taken over, intent only on seeing where that lovely feeling would lead.

She wasn't the only one caught up in the moment. The minute they'd made contact like that, the observer noted that Philip had his head thrown back and teeth tightly ground together. It almost looked as if he were in pain. Yet his hands stayed firmly attached to her hips, helping her repeat the mind blowing maneuver again, and again. His chest rumbling howls joined her own caterwauling in a duet fit to bust eardrums.

Slowly those hands that had been death gripping her well rounded hips made their way to her chest. They slid sensuously up under her crop top and bra, rolling and caressing her tingling breasts. Then she felt his mouth there, and Briallen thought she was going to blackout from the pleasure, clapping her hands to his head, unsure whether she meant to hold him tighter, or to pull him away. All of it was feeling too intense for words, and then she felt a tidal wave of pleasure break over her. She vaguely heard Philip cursing something at the top of his lungs, but she wasn't sure why when it felt so very good. She lost her vision for a moment, and once the spasms cleared she found herself collapsed like a rag doll on Philip's chest.

"What, what just happened?" Briallen had to ask once she regained coherent thought.

"Welcome, my love, to your first sexual gratification." Philip had both arms wrapped so tightly around her, she could barely catch her breath. "Although, the next time we do this, there will be no clothing between us." Briallen couldn't tell if the shiver down her back was from fear or anticipation.

What she did know beyond a shadow of a doubt was that she couldn't pretend anymore. She loved Philip. She just didn't know how she'd survive it if she was simply a conquest for the mighty playboy.

They were both strangely silent and subdued after that. Neither one really seemed to know what to say after that. Philip still helped her up with all the care of a fine gentleman, quirking a smile out of Briallen. Encouraged by that smile, Philip bent down to kiss her on her cheek. Bri moved her face just enough to intercept it with her lips. She might not be ready to say it, but she could at least show him. He groaned into her mouth, hugging her tightly to him.

"Love, we need to head back now." Philip rubbed his chin into her curls, trying to catch his breath and composure. "I might not be able to contain myself a second time. Promise me, no more dances or songs like that tonight? Show a little mercy?"

"Promise. Just don't play anymore songs like that, then."

"Deal."

They heard a most interesting conversation on their way past the public parking.

"Screw off!"

"You screw off."

"Why are you being such a cow?"

"Fuck you I am."

"Whatever. Just do it already."

Reese groaned as she thumped her head against her car… Her locked up car with the keys inside. "I would Killian, but the slim jim happens to be inside the car, too."

"Reese, Killian, you two alright?" Briallen approached them a bit warily. What could possibly have the two lovebirds talking like that to each other?

"We're locked out of Reese's car." Killian at least had the decency to look abashed. Reese just looked frustrated beyond belief.

"And I happen to own a slim jim for getting in locked cars, except it's in the locked car."

"Hold it a mo. I picked up dry cleaning today. I may have a coat hanger. Would that suffice?" No sooner said than done, and Reese was shortly using an unbent coat hanger to unlock the door.

"Thanks bro! You saved our evening!" The megawatt grin on Killian's face left no doubts to his sincerity. Soon the lovebirds were on their way back to Reese's place for further shenanigans, leaving Briallen to contemplate her own Durinson.

"My hero." To say he was surprised she initiated a hug would have put it mildly, but he was quick to take her up on it. "Not complaining, but what's brought this on?"

"Several things all at once, and I'm still twenty kinds of jumbled up over you. You could have pushed it back there, and I probably would have gone right along with it, but you didn't . And I cain't lie to myself or you: I do think I love you. I'm still scared witless I'm only interesting to you since I'm hard to get."

"Never! What is it going to take to prove to you I'm serious?"

"I wished I knew. I hate feeling like this."


	7. Chicken 'n Dumplins' to Grits 'n Eggs

**A/N: So, this got way more complicated than I planned. I thought, wait, she met his family, but he ain't met hers yet...so, here 'tis. I *think* maybe there's two more chapters to this one.**

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><p>Phil wasn't sure what to make of the face that greeted him the next time he landed at Dauphin Island. "Bri, what's the matter?" He'd never been one to let problems fester. He'd always thought it best to deal with it quick, whatever it may be.<p>

"Welp, you made me meet your family, guess it's time you met mine." She was as barefoot as always, and nervously shifting from one foot to the other. "Aunt Beulah's having a cookout at Sardis Creek, and you've been invited." Again, he couldn't decide what the guarded look she was wearing boded.

"So why does this bother you so?"

"Honey, have you heard any of the Jeff Foxworthy jokes?"

"A Few."

"He probably used my family as inspiration."

"Now you're exaggerating."

"You'll see soon enough. Here, can you find this strip?" Briallen shoved a map and flight coordinates into his lap, as she casually threw her bag in behind the front seats.

"Bri, what?"

"Well, you have this cotton pickin' plane, figured we'd put it to good use." She settled herself in the seat next to him, looking at him expectantly. "Well?"

"Blimey, right now? My feet haven't even touched ground yet, and you're going to put me right back in the air?"

"Awwww, poor Philly. Tell you what: I fix you chicken n dumplins for dinner, and you fly us there later. This thing can fly at night, right?" Bri leaned in close, kissing the tip of his nose, and softly dug her fingers into his long blonde locks, softly scratching the back of his scalp. His eyes closed with a soft sigh and leaned back into her ministrations, a soft smile on his lips.

Thankfully, Bri had little trouble leaning across, and settled herself comfortably on his broad chest. "Chicken and dumplings, you say." the way it rumbled in his chest against her cheek make her giggle.

"And all the fixins."

"Alright, yes, we can get there easily after dinner."

"I'd better call, let 'em know we'll be getting there late. Uncle Reuben can meet us with his pickup."

Sure enough, a full ton chevy pickup complete with rollbar in the back was waiting when they landed. The gentleman greeting them was dressed casually in faded blue jeans and a yellow t'shirt straining to contain his girth. All Philip could think was what a cook Beulah must be.

"How do, you must be Philip! Pleased to meetcha!" He was certainly a gregarious sort. Smile lines and laugh lines left a map of a man who laughed much and sorrowed little. Bushy grey brows shaded mild brown eyes, and a broad nose took pride of place. While not in the least a handsome face, it was still pleasant and welcoming.

"Uncle Reuben!" A miniature rocket launched itself from the passenger door of his plane, and landed safely (if roughly) in the welcoming arms of her uncle.

"Lord, girl! What are they feeding you at that Lab? Bricks?"

"Naw, Uncle, s'all them feed sacks you had me haulin' 'round growin' up!" Bri was beaming with happiness. It was clear that, whatever had her worried about this weekend, Uncle Reuben didn't figure into it. "Now, why don't we get this show on the road? Philip's about tuckered out."

"Aightie, c'mon y'all. I'll have you home in a jiff!" From the comfort of the cab, Philip watched out the window at the moonlit landscape that shaped a large part of who Briallen was. Field after field passed his window as the miles passed: corn, cotton, and a low growing shrub he couldn't name. In the dark it could have been tobacco, soybean, or even peanuts for all he knew.

That was another thing. Lights were few and far between, usually lighting up a little island of humanity amidst the endless fields. Streetlights were nonexistent. He couldn't remember a single place where the stars were this bright, or the moon that luminous. Out here, he could easily see the Tolkien elves' fascination with starlight.

Then they finally turned off the pavement onto a dirt road. Philip had never been bounced and jostled so much in his life. Trees loomed up out of the shadows, making the dark of night near impenetrable. Here existed the reason for high beams existence, he thought.

After another thirty minutes of teeth clicking, bone rattling dirt road, they finally turned off into a yard with a large sedan parked in front of a screened in porch with potted plants hanging from the eaves. A large woman in a flower spangled dress met them on the steps. 'Briallen! Sakes alive, you're finally here! C'mere n give me some sugar!"

Aunt Beulah's head was crowned with an iron grey cloud of tight curls to rival Briallen's own spirals. Her wide round face was graced with large bright pale blue eyes. She had a upturned nose to rival Wren's, indicative of a strong Irish heritage. The laugh lines and smile crinkles said she was a perfect match to Reuben's affable nature. It was no wonder Briallen chose to spend the night here.

Since it was only eight, Briallen and Philip were herded into the den, a welcoming room in warm browns and dark greens. The furniture was well worn but comfortable. This was room that had been lived in. Briallen pulled him down on a loveseat, where she curled up next to him, and begged her uncle for a story like a little girl. "Please, Uncle Reuben, tell the one about Granpa and the tractor?"

Uncle Reuben, who'd been reclining comfortably in his lazyboy, roared with laughter. "Oh lawdy, Bri! Are you trying to scare your young man off already?"

"Well, better'n lettin' him get in too deep without warnin'!" Despite her jovial tone, Philip could hear the worry in there. It finally explained the odd look on her face at the air strip. She wanted him to understand, but was afraid it would scare him off. Knowing Bri better than she thought he did, there was also the possibility she was equally scared it wouldn't.

"Well, this happened one spring just after he married your Gramma. He'd gone out to go turn over the back field behind the horse pasture. Well, it wouldn't crank. He check the wires, he checked the fuel lines, he did everything but rebuild the engine, and that tractor wouldn't crank for nothin. Not nothin', not no how. Then one of the goats got up there, rubbin' its horns all over everthing like a goat does. Not sure why, maybe them horns itched. Well, I want you to know that goat rubbin' his horns like it did turned the key, and that ornery tractor started right up. Granpa tossed his hat down right there and said 'That does it! That goat can go plow up the back field, 'cause I'm done with it!"

Bri and Philip laughed and chuckled, her head falling naturally onto Phil's shoulder where he gently held her. Uncle Reuben's eyes lit up while watching them. They'd do fine together, he was sure of it. "Welp, you youngens don't stay up too late. It's gonna be a big day down at the creek. Turning into a regular family reunion down at old Sardis. Sure enough. Don't forget the extra blankets in the hallway closet, now."

"I promise, Uncle Reuben, good night!" Bri walked him to a small bedroom. "This'n's for you. I'll be in that room there, right 'round the corner. So, if you need somethin'.." Her voice faded to nothing when she took in his very intense expression. He slowly backed her against the doorframe and wrapped his arms around her in a warm hug.

"Oh, I need something, alright." He whispered into her curls. "I need a proper good night kiss." It took quite a while for them to say good night properly.

Philip bolted upright in bed, the loud banging on the front door yanking him forcefully out of the pleasant dreams he'd been having. He could see lights out in the yard of the blue and red persuasion. Uncle Reuben came ambling by as if it were a genteel social call. "Alright, alright, I'm a'coming. No need getting all het up, now."

"Hey Reub! We got another call out to the Old Homestead. You want to come along and see if'n you can talk 'em down? I really don't have room right now, not after that dust up at the game Friday." The official speaking was a broad shouldered individual, rather resembling a bear. He sported a curly brown beard, a well worn sheriff's uniform, and might have been tall enough to stare his Uncle John in the eye. He was certainly the sort to discourage dust ups.

"You know I will, Henry. Though I swear, I sometimes think a month or two out at Mount Megs might be the best thing for those little hellions." They might have been the first unkind words he'd ever spoken, and even so, there was no heat in them. It sounded more like grumbling for the sake of grumbling, or maybe being gotten out of bed so early.

"Now you know you don't mean that." The sheriff held the car door open for Uncle Reuben.

"I know, c'mon let's go." They left in a cloud of dust with a very perplexed Philip staring after them.

"Bri, what just happened? " Philip got the uneasy feeling he'd be asking that a lot this weekend.

"The sheriff came to get my uncle to help deal with a couple of my cousins, sounded like." She sounded utterly unconcerned, as if this was a usual thing.

"What?"

"Yeeeep. Anytime they get a new deputy, they take them out to the Old Homeplace, cause they're gonna get a civil disturbance call out there at least once a week."

"You're joking."

"Ask the sheriff when he brings Uncle back." She wandered back towards the kitchen. "C'mon you, I'll make you some crunchy bacon and some grits with scrambled eggs."

"Real butter?" He sounded like a little boy begging for candy.

Briallen snorted rather unladylike. "As if I'd use anything else! C'mon here, or I won't cook."

Philip hurried into the kitchen after her. Something told him he might need the fortification for the day to come.


	8. Speakin' of the Devil

**A/N: I really do apologize for the slow posting. I try to aim for once a week, but some of the stuff I'm including~ that I think is necessary to the story** ~** simply isn't cooperating as quickly as I'd like. Hope you think it's worth the wait. ;) If some of my lurkers would kindly post reviews, it may encourage my muse to be more generous?**

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><p>The eventual ride to the creek was every bit as bone jarring and teeth rattling as his last time in the vehicle. Their destination involved more red dirt roads than he'd ever seen in his life. In a few places, the roads were so overgrown the trees and shrubs slapped the vehicle, as if chiding them for invading their territory. He wondered if he should have offered to ferry everyone to the cookout spot in the plane. It might have been quicker and more comfortable. This thought was made a little more reasonable by a particularly violent washboard area that nearly caused them to careen off the road into the trees.<p>

"Hang on back there! Rain seems to have gullied this road somethin' fierce!" Apparently, Uncle Reuben had lived a particularly blessed life, if he were still smiling that widely after having it flash before his eyes. To Philip's mind, the only good thing about the near miss was that Bri was practically in his lap from it.

"Oh, that brought back a bad memory!" She cuddled closer, shivering. He wrapped both arms about her, hugging her close.

"Tell me."

"Back when I lived here, I worked to help support the family, no surprise there. However, since I was the new kid, I always had to work close...that meant getting home at ungodly hours of the early morning. So there I'd be, driving in the dark, and usually worn slap out, not a good combination.

"Well, I hit one of them washboards like that, and I lost control of my car. It was just a little ol' thing, all we could afford. It didn't stop spinning like a bloomin' top until it hit a bank like that over there." She pointed to what amounted to a pile of dirt built up on the side of the road, already sporting a healthy growth of weeds, shrubs, and young trees.

"I had to walk to the nearest house, and ask if I could use the phone since I didn't have a cell phone or anything. I called Momma, and I called a wrecker. Momma chewed me up one side and down the other. I think she fussed more because she was scared than because I'd really done anything wrong. Then the man driving the tow truck showed her what was over the other side of the bank. It was a deep gully, covered in kudzu. He said they might never have found me if I'd gone over the bank." His arms tightened as tiny tremors ran through his entire frame. She didn't fuss as he pulled her onto his lap, burying his face in her curls, breathing her scent deep. He could have lost her; lost her before he ever knew she existed. That chilled him in a way he didn't really want to think about at all. Strangely enough, Bri was content to bury her nose in his neck, and stayed there.

The ride eventually smoothed out, though they were still on a dirt road of that searing red color. Philip was amused to find Briallen had fallen asleep on him. She bounced awake as Uncle Reuben parked and cut off the engine. "We're there already?"

"You fell asleep."

"That youngen! You still fall asleep as soon as wheels roll, child? How do you ever manage to drive yourself anywheres?" Uncle Reuben was still laughing about it as he pulled the grill from the back of the truck. He waded out to a large sand bar in the middle of the fast running brown water, and set it up. Briallen took one end of a large green cooler and motioned for Philip to get the other end.

"Hurry afore Aunt Beulah tries to carry it. I don't feel like having to repack this thing." Philip quickly grabbed the other end and followed her out into the water.

It was cold.

Bri laughed as he loudly sucked air into his lungs. "What's the matter, Shug?"

"And you swim in this?" His cold induced falsetto sent Bri's laughter bounding down the steep creek banks.

"What, aren't there any creeks or brooks or whatever you call them in England? I thought the temperature was supposed to be cooler there anyways." Briallen was enjoying his discomfiture entirely too much to his way of thinking.

"Ever hear of a heated pool? It's a thing. I do not enjoy freezing my assets off in chilled water." Bri nearly lost her end of the cooler laughing at him. Even he found it humorous once they reached the sandbar, and his legs resumed normal temperature.

Then came the meeting of the family. Vehicle after vehicle showed up, most of them pickups ranging from new and pristine to derelicts he was amazed made the daunting trip. It was easy to pick out the current troublemakers. Both sported bruises, black eyes, and cuts to make a prizefighter proud. They were also completely over whatever it was, picking and playing as if they'd always been best of friends. Philip could only shake his head.

"Hey Bri! You gonna join us on the rope swing this time?" Catcalled one of the troublemakers. He was a sandy haired button nosed wirey framed imp. He would have looked perfectly at home on a ranch. In fact, he looked as if he'd already participated in his first bar brawl.

"Now what do you think, after that last time, Mikey?" To Phil's amusement, Briallen started coloring up red as the tomatoes Aunt Beulah had her slice.

"C'mon, Wonderwoman, don't you know the best way to get over something is to conquer it?" Hooted the other cousin. For a moment, Philip feared the thin boy would lose his ratty cuttoffs. He did not want to know her cousins that well.

"Like you learned to conquer that temper, Benny?" Briallen had her hands on her hips, staring down the troublemaker. He was as rangey as the other, but had dark, curly hair, and longer features more like Briallen's. He snorted at her, waving both hands dismissively as if to brush her off, turned, and draped his long arm around his cousin's bare shoulder, obviously planning their next caper.

'What was all that about?" Philip was curious. He was sure there was a family story there, and his curiosity was urging him to find out.

"My cousins being their usual selves. It'll get worse as more of 'em get here." Briallen started back towards the pickup to get the folding table. Philip joined her.

"How many are there?" He threaded his arms through the backs of the camp chairs, carrying two to each arm. He carried them easily. Bri winked over her shoulder at him as she balanced the chair on her head, skipping back to the sandbar. Luckily, Phil had acclimated, and the cold droplets she kicked up from the creek didn't faze him in the least.

"Eh, if they all show, there'll be sixteen of us, and that's just the cousins. That's not counting spouses and kids. I lost count at the last reunion. Some of my cousins view reproduction as a contest." Her lips twisted in a wry grin as her words surprised a guffaw out of Philip.

"The ones you really have to watch though, are the Aunts, Uncles, and Momma." Again Philip caught that odd look from the airfield on her face.

"Oh?" Maybe this time she'd elaborate.

"Half of 'em will ask why you ain't put a ring on my finger yet, and the other half, led by Momma, are going to be measuring you for a noose."

"Seriously?"

"Of course. How dare you sully my innocent self with your wicked rich city boy designs." Briallen put on an exaggerated southern belle accent, and fluttered her eyes ridiculously, then blew a disgusted raspberry. "Trust me, the only thing saving you from certain death is that you ain't a yankee. Though, being British ain't that far off, neither."

"I do believe you just insulted me." Philip tried for light humor, but Bri was having none of it.

"Just tellin' you how they see it, Love." Briallen had no clue how to make Philip understand. On the surface, it was both stupid and ridiculous. Unfortunately, with the temperaments involved, it was also in earnest. She opened her mouth to try to explain when the sky fell in.

"Briallen Carys Davis! Get your backside over here right now!" The voice held menace and command.

"Speakin' of the devil, there's Momma now." Philip watched his darling girl draw herself up and trudge back up the steep creek bank to face off with the voice any drill sergeant would have proudly claimed.

Of course he followed.


	9. Tirades to Tubin'

**I have no idea why, but this chapter near bout whupped the snot out of me. However, I managed to out stubborn it after all. Hope it's worth the wait. *hugs***

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><p>"Care to tell me why I didn't even know you were in town until your cousin Benny told me he'd had words with you when I got here?" She was quite a sight filled with righteous ire, hands on her hips and thunderclouds on her face. The family resemblance was easy to see. She was almost a lighter copy of Briallen, as if washed out by time. Where Briallen's cloud of curls was dark as wild honey, hers was as light as clover honey. Where Briallen had rich, warm brown eyes, her mother's were a light, almost cinnamon brown in color. Mother and daughter faced off with identical chins stuck out in the same mulish expressions.<p>

"We got in late last night, and didn't want to be a bother. Uncle Reuben and Aunt Beulah are rattlin' around in that old house all alone, and you still have a house full with both Seth and Corey and the youngens at home. I knew you'd see me soon enough here and monopolize all the time you wanted. Now, does that settle your hash?"

"You best remember who you're talkin' to, young lady." The low dangerous growl was all too familiar to Briallen, too many dust ups had started with that growl. Bri sighed heavily.

"Momma, I did not come here to fight with you. I came to spend the weekend with my family, are you going to make me regret that decision?" It was almost like watching a switch flip. One second she looked like a pugilist ready to enter the ring, the next a lip trembling, soft eyed matron welcoming her lost progeny home. Philip would have been hard pressed to believe it if he hadn't just witnessed it. From the lack of reaction of the various family around, this was not an uncommon thing.

"Aunt Janie Ruth said if you don't come say 'hi' this time, she's gonna tan your hide but good."

"Oh Lordy, she's gonna talk my ears off, just you watch." Briallen knew a strategic separation of forces when she saw one, and determined to quickly dispatch said 'hi' and rescue Philip as soon as possible.

"Briallen Carys Davis, move your bahunkis." Momma was apparently on to her, too.

"Yes Momma." Briallen went quickly.

Then those flat brown eyes turned on him, eyebrow cocked in a dare. Philip could almost hear the bells signalling round two. "So, you're Philip? Just what do you think you're doin' with my baby?" Before Philip could open his mouth to answer, he found a sharp finger poking him in the chest repeatedly, as the woman's words washed over him like a tsunami. "I don't know what you fancy boys in Britain are used to, but let me tell you it don't fly that way here! You ain't gonna use up 'n toss my little girl like yesterday's news. That's my baby, and I watch out for her! If you ever hurt her, they'll never find your body! You hear me?"

Bri's mother's fierce words and sharp finger had backed Philip into a pine tree, his hands up placatingly. He wondered distractedly if Bri would show up in time to save him from her mother's tirade or if she planned to bury his body now in the rocky bottom of Sardis Creek.

"Ma'am, I have no intentions of using Bri, or of ever leaving her. She'd be wearing my engagement ring right now if I had my way." He wasn't sure whether it was his words or his grumpy tone that finally caught the angry mother's attention.

"Say what?" A proud mother's smile now beamed happily back at him.

"Your daughter, ma'am, is as stubborn as you could wish. She doesn't trust my intentions either." It cost him dearly to admit that, but at the time, they may have been the only words capable of saving his hide.

"No, not only no, but HELL effin' no!" Two concerned heads turned at the loud, angry voice coming from the other side of the thicket of trees and scrub brush.

"Awe, c'mon, surely you're not still scared of the rope swing?" The wheedling voice was already annoyingly familiar. Briallen's mother sighed heavily. This was apparently an all too common occurrence.

"I ain't scared, you idjit! I just don't care to make a fool of myself again, thank you very much!" Bri stomped her foot at her persistent cousin. He obviously thought with more of the cousins there, he could browbeat her into taking a turn with simple peer pressure. Obviously, he didn't count on the calvary.

"Michael Avery Samson Till, just what do you think you're a'doin?" Philip flinched in sympathy, not that the young scalawag deserved any. Having been on the receiving end of that venomous voice, he had no wish to ever be there again. Once was too much.

"Awww, Aunt Cadie! We just wanted Bri to swing with us!" Honestly? The boy was whining at his age? More amazingly, he actually expected that nonsense to work?

"Don't you mean, you just wanted to watch her tumble down the bank again?" The knowing voice did what nothing else had: the boy was cowed for the first time since Philip met him.

Philip took a good look at the steep bank and felt the color drain from his face. The bank was far from bare: short sharp stubs of cleared scrub brush poked up from the brown spongy ground, waiting to pierce anything unlucky enough to land on them. Imagining Briallen tumbling helplessly down that bank was enough to make him nauseous.

"Awe c'mon! You know better. Cain't nothin' hurt our Wonderwoman! 'Sides, she got it right the second go round last time." There was an odd sort of pride in the boy's voice, leading Philip to believe it was more a case of wanting to see the miracle repeat itself than any real wish to harm Bri. Still, if ever Philip met a future candidate for a Darwin Award, young Michael was it, followed closely by Benny.

"Michael, she said 'no'. You will respect 'no', or I'll blister your hide right here in front of God and everybody. Am I clear?" The threadbare patience in those words finally got through to the hardheaded boy.

"Yes Ma'am." Michal sullenly turned and, with all the grace of a wild squirrel, leapt up and grabbed the rope swing with one hand, flipping off it to cannonball into the waiting water with a wild warhoop that rattled Philip's back teeth.

"Bloody hell! He's louder than Killian!" Equal parts horror and admiration colored Phil's voice, and he had to stretch his jaw finally, to alleviate the ringing in his ears.

"Now there's a disaster to contemplate: Killian meeting the Dubious Duo." Briallen leaned into Philip's comforting hug, sharing a shiver of dread as they contemplated the disaster together.

"Perish the thought. Now, what's this I keep hearing about you and rope swings? No more dodging." Briallen huffed silently as she met Philip's firm stare, grudgingly nodding her assent to share her embarrassing story.

"Alright alright already! So, several years ago, we had another one of these get togethers here on the sandbar. Rope swings right where it is, and the bank in pretty much the same shape it is now. I'd never been on a rope swing, and the cousins invited me to try it. Well, you just saw the grand acrobatics Mikey can do. So, I gave it a shot."

"Oh no." It was the perfect recipe for disaster.

"Oh yes." Briallen's face turned a brilliant red as she had to share her own nomination for a Darwin Award. Thank heavens Philip seemed more ill from the tale than amused. She could not have borne his laughter. "I missed. Spectacularly, I might add. I tumbled all the way down the bank and landed "kersploosh" in the shallows. I stood up without a scratch on me. I'd managed to tumble down that steep stub covered bank, and miss every single one of them. Benny fully expected me to look like a colander. I think my butt print might still be there somewhere. It's pure red clay down

there."

Bri giggled, causing Philip to quirk an inquisitive brow at her. "Care to share the humor, Love?

"Just think: in about a thousand or so years, some paleontologist or archaeologist is going to find my butt print, and try to figure out its significance!" Philip thought for a moment, and joined her in her levity.

The rest of the cookout passed fairly uneventfully. Philip met several of her aunts, uncles, and cousins. As predicted, some wanted to know when's the wedding, and when they could expect little Bris and Philips running amok. Others glared daggers, or warned Philip how adept they were at hiding bodies. Philip marveled at it all. He wondered if he'd managed to stumble into the middle of the South's version of the mafia. When he mentioned it to Bri, he was afraid she would suffocate herself laughing.

"Oh lord, Phil! I don't even know how to begin explainin' that one! I reckon it's a bit of a holdover from Reconstruction and the heyday of the Klu Klux Klan."

"How in hell?"

"Well, think about it: what does the victor always do the loser after a war? Heck, think about Robin Hood! What justice did anyone who wasn't privileged have, unless they took it upon themselves? Reconstruction wasn't that long ago, and we're still reaping the whirlwind on that one to this day. So, yeah, I reckon you could blame it on that." Briallen's face lit up as she hollered out to a family passing down the Creek in a bunch of inflated tubes.

"Jerry Mayhew! How're y'all doin' today!" Her voice was as bright, light, and full of unfettered joy. Phil could listen to it all day. Even if it was loud enough to bust eardrums in a five mile radius.

"Oh lawdy! Is that our little Bri Britches?" Briallen flushed red yet again, as Philip mouthed 'Bri Britches' back at her. His dimples shining merrily.

"Jesus! Nobody's called me that in a coon's age!" Bri bellowed back.

"Heck girl! It's been about that long since we've seen you!" It was quite possible the man's belly was prodigious enough he could have floated just as well without the tube. It was also abundantly clear that his sunscreen had either worn off, or he'd forgotten it completely. He was sporting a vicious sunburn. The plump woman behind him had a very concerned look on her round face, but still waved merrily to Bri as they slowly passed by in the deep current of the creek. Three children, two blonde and sun browned boys, and a little blonde moppet with Shirley Temple curls catcalled and flicked water at each other as they floated past. Even in the midst of play, they managed to offer jubilant hellos to the family reunion they passed.

"When y'all get done, you wanna join us for dinner?" This was Aunt Beulah's offer. Apparently, if she knew you, you were family, and expected to join the festivities.

"Naw, thank you, though. We got a picnic waitin on us down the creek." Jerry called back politely.

"Here! Have a few on us. to hold you 'til you get there, then!" Briallen helped her uncle throw canned drinks to the floating family: sprites for the children, and something more fortifying for the adults. Jerry and his wife beamed back at them.

"Bless you and thank you! How'd you know?" If possible, Jerry's grin was brighter than his sunburn.

"'Cause you're redder'n a 'mater in a cayenne patch!" crowed Briallen merrily back. Her uncle laughed and clapped her back in high humor.

The rest of the day passed in high spirits, good food, family tales that had Philip laughing till the tears ran, and good company. Briallen was even able to introduce him to her favorite song "Wildwood Flower," A couple of relatives brought guitars and fiddles to the get together, so music and dancing followed the feeding frenzy.

He also discovered quiet time on the creekbank under the stars with Bri was almost as magical as a night on the beach. He leaned back against an accommodating hickory and pulled Bri back to him, resting his head on her soft curls.

"I enjoyed myself today with you." In the comfort of his arms, listening to the frog chorus, Briallen had been slowly lulled into complacency, simply enjoying just being. His words stirred her out of it.

"Really? Firing squad and all?" She tilted her head to regard the smiling eyes and dimpled cheeks. Unable to resist, she started scratching his chin under his beard. The blissful grin on his face sparked an answering grin on hers. His half closed eyes and proffered chin making her think of an oversized house cat begging for pettins'.

"Yes really, firing squad and all." He sighed into her magical fingers.

"Why? How?" Between facing down mad roads, crazy cousins, nosy relatives, and one over protective Momma Bear, Bri wasn't exactly sure what all he could have found so charming about today.

"Mostly, because I got to spend today with you. Secondly, because I got a glimpse at what has made you you, and Love, it is awe inspiring." The soft soulful words knocked the wind out of her sails.

"Jesus, Phil!" Bri really didn't know what she could say to that, so she simply hid from it in his chest, cuddled in his arms, letting his knowing laughter rumble against her cheek. Thumping his shoulder only made the turkey laugh louder.

"Love, you really need to learn how to take a compliment." She'd let him have the last word, this time.


End file.
